


Miraculous Night

by gardnerhill



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, M/M, POV First Person, Unrequited Love, Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 17:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4313547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I’d always wanted his POV on that scene in the film.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miraculous Night

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2015 July Watson's Woes Promptfest prompt #10, _**What’s All This Then?** Use the POV of one or more of the police for today's entry._

We felt the explosion all the way across the dock just as we saw the pork warehouse ignite.

Sweet Jesus, they were there ( _he_ was there). And if they were there they were dead in that inferno.

I ran. The smell – gas, burnt wood, charred pork – hit but I never slowed, my stomach in knots at what I was going to find.

We’d been given orders: arrest them both on sight. “Word’s from above,” was all the governor would say. I knew that meant Lord Coward, but as I ain’t stupid I said nothing. It was my duty to clap the darbies on both men. If they lived.

_He_ lived. It was a sheer bloody miracle. He lay groaning outside that destroyed warehouse. He was alone. Had he been alone? He’d been doing more and more work without his bull-pup along (a handsome man, but so cold and unfeeling to him).

He could move, stunned by the blast though he was. I helped him up (my arms around him for a few precious seconds). That dazed look in those dark eyes that shifted to the warehouse, his lips almost forming a “W”… Oh Christ, Watson _had_ been in there and that meant Watson was dead (his heart will break).

He sagged in my arms momentarily, straightened again. He hadn’t been in the warehouse but the blast had dazed him, likely damaged his hearing as well. I could feel him gathering himself to run into that ruin, to his own ruination (the governor was right behind me, would be here in moments, would put him in irons just as he found Watson’s charred corpse).

I’m already going to Hell for being a mandrake, why not add disobeying a superior and lying to the charges? I told him about the order for his arrest, told him who’d issued it, and lied that Watson was alive. “Just get out of here, sir. Go, sir, go!” I pushed him away, sent him running.

I turned and almost swallowed my heart. The governor was right there, picking through the spilled bricks, and looking right at me. He’d been right bloody there. He’d seen my treason to the strength. God dammit, he could still see _him_ running away, disappearing in an alleyway, from where he stood. He looked at me, looking like an old man.

I drew a breath, ready to confess and lose everything (thank God I’ve got no wife, imaginary chambermaid or not, nor no kids to starve for my stupidity).

“Clark, keep the civilians away while we investigate.” And the governor turned his back on me and went into the warehouse.

I stared after his back. He’d seen him running away, he had to. He’d seen me help him run away. And he was acting like … like he didn’t want to arrest him either.

I turned away, shaking, ready to pace the perimeter of the damage. Two miracles in one night. A pervert and a traitor to the badge didn’t have the right to pray for a third – except that I’d seen that lost look in those beautiful dark eyes of his.

I crossed myself fast, bowed my head as if searching the ground. Patron of lost causes. _St. Jude, please. Please –_

“Oy!” Constable Wilkins bellowed from the warehouse. “Dr. Watson's alive!"


End file.
